Through The Eyes Of Another
by Cheep FIsh Baby
Summary: A retelling of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone from the points of view of various other characters.
1. The Cat Woman And The Giant

Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry was proud to say she could not tolerate foolishness, thank you very much. She was the last person you'd expect to be involved in anything rash or dangerous, because she just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Prof. McGonagall was the Transfigurations teacher as well as head of Gryffindor house and Deputy Headmistress. She had black hair, pulled back into bun. She wore square glasses and had beady eyes. She rarely smiled.

McGonagall was a severe woman but was at heart a kind woman. She had been just as terrified as everyone else had been during these last eleven years, and with the headmaster's constant abstinces off fighting the death eaters, she had had to much more work than a deputy headmistress normally would have to.

As she woke up the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, she could hear distinctly the sounds of cheering echoing from around the castle.

"Good grief," thought McGonagall to herself. "These students had an entire feast last night and they still haven't stopped their Halloween shananigans."

But as she got out of bed to change into her emerald green robe, she saw outside her window. Hundreds, no thousands of owls, everywhere, blotting out the sky. What was happening. Suddenly, the door flew open.

"Minerva! Minerva!" shouted the small woman at the door. "Minerva, incredible news, have you heard it yet?"

"News? What news? What's happening Prof. Sprout?"

"It's, _him, _you-know-who, he's gone!"

"Gone?"

"Gone!"

"But, how Pomona?"

"Nobody's sure yet, but owl's have been coming into the castle since before the crack of dawn. They say, they say you-know-who went to the Potter's, Lily and James, and killed them both. But he couldn't manage to kill their baby son Harry, and now he's disappeared. Isn't this wonderful!"

"The Potters…" said McGonagall quietly to herself. "Where is Dumbledore? Is he in the castle?"

"No, Flitwick tried going up to see him in his office but he's left."

"How about Hagrid?"

"He's out in his cabin, I think."

Without another word McGonagall left her room and ran as fast as she could downstairs. All through the halls there were students, ghosts, and even some disgraceful teachers looking like they'd just won the Quidditch World Cup. She caught Peeves trying to scare some first-year students telling them he was the ghost of Voldemort and was going to to feed them to the death eaters. An exuburant house-elf was jumping through the halls until she caught sight of McGonagall and begged her pardon. And as she rushed past the Great Hall she could hear the last verses of the school song being sung.

She had to find Hagrid. She knew that Dumbledore always told Hagrid everything, or at least more than most people, so he must know what was happening. If it were true. She knocked at his door and the giant man quickly stepped out and closed the door behind him.

"Good mornin' there Professor," he said glumly.

"Hagrid, oh Hagrid. What's going on. Has Albus told you anything?"

"Oh yea, he has, but don't be askin' me nothin' abou' all that. It's confidential that is and…"

"Really Hagrid, since when has something being secret kept you from revealing it to anybody who would hear you?"

"Well this is important, I ain't to tell nobody, not even the professors."

"Can you, can you at least tell me where Albus is, so I can talk to him?"

"I don't rightly know where the headmaster is at the moment, to be honest," he said, nervously.

"Hagrid, please."

"Alright, he told me to meet 'im down at Surrey, in a muggle town."

"A muggle town in Surrey? Why?"

"Now, please…"

"Can you tell where WHERE than?"

"He sent this map along with his owl," said Hagrid, passing the map to her. McGonagall grabbed her wand from her pocket, tapped the map and instantly an exact copy of it was made.

"Thank you Rubeus. Thank you very much." She could not bare to say anything else, she had to know the truth, so she dashed away.

McGonagall was not usually impulsive like this. But she knew she had to be. Besides, she doubted anyone would miss her at the castle, those sutdents used any excuse to get out of class and they would milk this for all its worth. So she hiked on outside of Hogwarts ground, and as soon as she had she disapparated.

She apparated very far from where she had started. She had concentrated on going somewhere secluded, off from the town, Little Whinging. She walked into the town and soon realized she was not in muggle attire. She had not been within the limits of Little Whinging more than five minutes before she realized this did not matter. All through the streets she could see people who were obviously magical. They were dressed in full robes and did not care. The nerve of them, thought McGonagall. She had only been here like this as an emergency. What was there excuse? If this many had gathered here she dreaded to imagine what was happening in busier muggle parts like London.

She did not feel like meeting up with anybody she knew and get delayed, so she pulled into an abandoned alleyway. She tapped her wand on the map leading to the marked place, Privet Drive. She tapped her wand on it, placing a charm on it that would allow her to make it appear and disappear anywhere at anytime by only her thoughts. This was complex magic she had devoloped herself. She hadn't even named the spell yet. After she had sent her map to the ether, she transformed instantly into a tabby cat, with black square markings around its eyes.

This was much easier, she thought, walking past the shops and cars, between the legs of wizards and muggles alike. After going through the town she walked through streets and streets of nearly identical houses, until she reached a street corner. She was fairly sure this was the direction, but to be sure she summoned her map again. She looked through it quickly. Yes, this was the way.

Suddenly, she realized in horror that a muggle car had pulled up in front of her. She made her map disappear quickly and stood perfectly still The muggle was staring at her. She knew that muggles had the tendancy to think magical things they saw were only their imaginations, so she tried not to do anything. Finally, the man drove away. In her opinion, he certainly looked like quite a stupid muggle. She looked up at the street sign, she was at the corner of Magnolia Crescent and Privet Drive. She continued forward.

She stopped in front of the house the map at marked, number four. Just what Dumbledore would want to do here she hadn't the foggiest. The only appealing thing to be said about the house was the garden. Other than that, it looked like all the others, a large dull looking box.

She climbed up onto the garden wall and stayed there. Dumbledore must be arriving shortly. She'd wait as long as she would have to to find out the truth. And so she waited, perfectly still in the cold for hours on end. Just after noon, she could hear yelling voice coming from a neighboring house. It was at this time a woman came out of number four carrying a watering can. She was a very thin blonde woman with a very long neck. Although she seemed to be concentrated on watering a hydrangea bush, McGonagall could see her craning her long neck over the garden fence ever so often, listening to the arguing women.

She wondered whether this woman could be a spy for Dumbledore. She certainly had the qualities of one. But the woman looked much too like a muggle. After some time of witnessing this eavesdropping, a toddler came out of the house and up to the women.

"Sweets!" cried the toddler.

"Now Dudley, don't you think you had enough chocolate yesterday?"

"Sweets mummy! Sweets!" Then the toddler kicked his mother in the shin, causing her to cry out in pain. "Want sweets!"

"Mummy's very sorry Dudley, but we don't have any sweets in the house for you."

This seemed to infuriate little Dudley, and soon he was kicking his mother down the street as she told him to stop. "Won't!" he cried, until finally she gave in and said,

"Alright, Dudley, let's go to the sweets shop and buy you something." Then she picked him up and kissed him. "Mummy's very sorry."

McGonagall could not believe her eyes. It was exactly because of parents like that teacher's lives could be so miserable. She waited for another half hour, without leaving the wall, when the women returned with her in one hand and a large bag with the word "Mars" on the other.

McGonagall looked in through the front window, to their living room. The mother place the child into a highchair in front of a muggle devise that she believed was called television, and left him with the bag of sweets. The mother disappeared for hours, though she could she her briefly in an upstairs window cleaning a bedroom.

The patient cat waited the entire afternoon and yet still Dumbledore hadn't arrived. At dusk a car pulled into the driveway. In fact, she realized it was the same car she had seen this morning. Finding out this man lived here seemed to confirm her suspicions of his being stupid.

The man came right up to her and screamed, "Shoo!" McGonagall no longer cared whether she looked like a normal cat anymore and just gave him a stern look.

The man went in and still McGonagall waited. She was getting quite tired, but she didn't care. She had to know. At around ten o'clock she could see the man come into the living room. She heard the sound the television made, it seemed like a news report.

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern. Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

The part of the owls did not surprise her at all. Her only past time all day was to count how many owls flew by her, and she had lost count after two in the afternoon. The part about the shooting stars was much more shocking. She had a pretty good idea who set off the ones in Kent.

Soon after this the television was turned off, and the only light in the house came from an upstairs window. McGonagall was getting stiff all over from standing in the same spot for almost twelve hours. She was almost afraid to leave now, it would be admitting defeat and that something must have gone horribley. She'd give it one more hour. She looked forlornley down the street, hoping to see him. In the house the last light was turned off and she was left with only the street lights. Still, despite the cold, despite her fear, she knew she had to stay. She didn't care if everyone else was celebrating the Dark Lord's defeat. She just needed to know from the person she trusted must in the world whether the Potters were really dead.

Meanwhile, far away in the air, Rubeus Hagrid was riding on an enormous flying motorcylce. His long beard was whipping around all over the place, he still wasn't quite sure how the controls worked, and was making sure to hold on tight to the bundle of blankets he held.

He had been flying for hours, over most of the country, to get to number four, Privet Drive. He didn't dare stop anything he was doing to look at the map, so he had gotten lost and was probably going to be a little later than what Dumbledore had told him.

He looked down at the little baby Harry Potter. He remembered the first day he had seen him, almost fourteen months ago, and he never imagined then that it would come to this. Luckily the boy wasn't crying anymore. Poor thing, thought Hagrid, if he only knew what had happened, how much more would it have been crying.

He was horrified when he got to the house and saw the huge red gash on the dear boy's forehead. He hardly believed it when Albus told him to get down there in the middle of the night. Voldemort's powers had been broken by a baby.

It horrible, when Sirius Black had come. The poor man, he thought. He had never seen two closer friends, and Hagrid had to be the one to tell him he was being sent off to live away from the wizarding world. He got back to Hogwarts in the early morning along with baby Harry, who he kept hidden in his cabin until it was time to start the journey to Harry's aunt and uncle's. They had to come under the cloak of night, when there weren't no muggle – or worst - eyes prying.

Hagrid felt exhausted when he finally found the place, and landed quite abruptly. Dumbledore was there and he could see McGonagall with him dabbing her eyes. He would have told her everything by now.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," he said, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. They could just say the face of the sleeping baby, the turt of jet-black hair and the scar.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" asked McGonagall.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."

A part of Hagrid did not want to let him go, but Dumbledore always knew what was right, and so he handed him over.

"Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Hagrid could not hold it in any longer, and let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead -- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

Hagrid couldn't help but remember, back at the cottage, when he considered asking Dumbledore to let him take care of boy, raise it there in his cabin at Hogwarts like he'd been raised when his dad died. It would probably be the closest thing he could ever have had to a son, he doubted there was any woman in the world like him.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, though he did not feel like celebrating, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

He looked back down at the little squares that were the houses. The lights had come back to Privet Drive and he knew he was somewhere down below.

"Bye for now, Harry," he said to himself.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"


	2. Attack Of The Snake

Attack Of The Snake

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find  
their nephew on the front step, but Little Whinging had hardly changed at  
all. In one of the large box houses, lined one after the other, a young boy of nearly eleven woke up.

"Piers," he heard his mother calling from the other room. "Piers, you had better get ready, you have to go to your little friend's birthday party."

"I know that mummy!" Piers called back, and began searching his drawers for socks. He had been having a dream, hadn't he? Yeah, he remembered, he was dreaming he had grown up and was bigger than all the other boys in school. It had been a great dream.

He looked into the mirror suddenly – nope, his dream had come true, yet. He was still regular scrawny rat-faced Piers Polkiss. Well, no matter, today he was going to have fun. He was going to the zoo with his best friend Dudley Dursley. He had been so happy when Dudley invited him to go, Dudley's parents would always take him on some extragavent trip for his birthday, and it was considered an honor in their school to get to be the person Dudley brought along.

He went downstairs, getting a big kiss on the forehead from his mother, and quietly ate some cereal. He stared excitedly at the clock, come nine o'clock he would be going to number four Privet Drive, and next stop would be the zoo.

When eight forty-five came, his mother told him to get in the car. He quickly picked up the wrapped present for Dudley, some video cassettes of movies he knew Dudley liked. He wanted to make sure to get Dudley a present he would like. It had taken him a lot of work to become Dudley's best friend, most of which involved strict loyalty to him. Whatever Dudley wanted, Piers would do. It was simple really, Dudley was the biggest, toughest boy in his year. Being his friend meant that none of the other boys could pick on him, it was his only way to be popular.

As he walked into the garage, he saw his prized possession lying next to his parents' car, Piers' top of the line racing bike. It was the only thing he was proud of, the only thing he had that no one else he knew had. He could see all the other kids envious faces as he rode this beauty down the street, even Dudley who so often bragged about all the great toys he had, didn't have a bike like this one!

Soon, he and his mother arrived at Dudley's house, which Piers liked because it had a bigger backyard than his but for some reason Dudley didn't usually bring friends over. His mother rang the doorbell and Piers waited, hoping that Dudley would like his present. Mrs. Dursley answered the door, she seemed bothered by something but in a second put on a huge smile.

"Why, hello Elizabeth. How are you Piers?"

"Good morning Mrs. Dursley," said Piers, just as his mother had instructed.

"It's so nice to see you again Petunia," said his mother, "You really have a lovely home."

"Oh thank you, and I just adore those earrings," said Mrs Dursley. "Do come in."

Piers loved Dudley's mom, she made the best cookies in the world and he couldn't wait to taste the birthday cake she had made. They followed her through the hall into the kitchen, where he saw Dudley surrounded by presents and looking quite upset.

"Spot of tea, Liz?" asked Petunia.

"Thank you, but I have to be going," Piers' mother answered and left.

"Well now," said Mr. Dursley not smiling, "me and mummy have to some…things to discuss now Dudley, so run along and play with your friend until we're ready to go."

That's when Piers noticed Harry Potter standing in the far off side of the room. It was strange seeing him here, at school Dudley and Harry were so distant and different that Piers often forgot that they were cousins and lived together. But Piers didn't have time to think about Harry, because he and Dudley raced upstairs to his room.

"Here's your present, by the why," said Piers handing it over to Dudley.

"Thanks, I'll open it later," said Dudley tossing it aside. "So, guess what I got?"

Piers could see Dudley's eyes glowing, like he was trying to contain glee. "What?"

"A racing bike." Piers breathed in quickly, "A nice new racing bike, just like your. No, better."

"That's…" Piers began. He was at a lost for words. His bike was all he had! "…Wonderful, Dud. We'll have to go riding together sometime."

"Yeah, right," said Dudley, as though he found that unlikely.

Piers and Dudley spent the next half-hour playing Dudley's new video games, when they heard Mr Dursley calling them downstairs.

"Well, everything's all set," he said, "You two can get into the car. Oh, and, er Dudley, your cousin will be coming too."

Dudley's lips tightened. He, Dudley, Mr Dursley and Harry all walked together to the car in the driveway. He and Dudley got into the back seat, while Mr Durlsey and Harry stayed outside for a moment.

"I-CAN'T-BELIEVE-THEY'RE-MAKING-HIM-COME!" said Dudley.

"Who?"

"HARRY!

"Well, what's the big deal anyway?" As soon as he said it he regretted it, he knew Dudley hated Harry, as Piers had often held Harry's arms behind his back as Dudley punched him.

"I hate that boy," said Dudley.

"Why?"

"Why? WHY!" said Dudley, said angrily (though Piers suspected Dudley really didn't know why). "He's just so…annoying, and weird, and a freak! I mean, well…" Dudley leaned in and whispered, "He just does strange things."

"Like what?"

"Don't be daft! You were there with me when Harry flew onto the roof!"

"You mean when he climbed up the chimney?"

"No, you saw it with your own eyes. Didn't you? I just told the headmistress that to get the prick in trouble. One minute we were chasing him, the next he was on the roof. And that's not all, one time my mother gave him a haircut, and the next day his hair was back to normal! And you were there when he turned the teacher's wig blue!"

"You…you're just trying to scare me Dudley," said Piers. "Harry Potter couldn't hurt anyone. He's too boring."

"You wouldn't be saying that if he started turning things of yours blue. I'm telling you, Harry is just weird. My parents know it, they just don't talk about it. But I know they're hiding a secret from me."

"Yeah right Dudley," said Piers rolling his eyes. Why was Dudley acting so stupid today?

Mr Dursley and Harry came into the car, neither of them saying a word. Soon Mrs Dursley came out of the house and they were on their way. Harry was sitting next to Piers, so he had to make his best act to seem like he wanted nothing to do with Harry. Truth was he really didn't care that much about Harry, he didn't like him, but he certainly didn't hate him. Dudley did though, and that was all that mattered.

As the were driving along, Piers saw a cool looking motorcycle through the window and looked at it in awe as it overtook them.

"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," Mr Dursley muttered.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry suddenly. "It was flying."

Piers' body fell forward as Mr Dursley stepped on the breaks, almost crashing into the car in front. He turned right  
around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet  
with a mustache:

"MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Piers was slightly shocked by this, Harry looked as though he regretted openning his mouth. Dudley started snickering loudly so he went along.

"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."

When they finally arrived at the zoo, Dudley's parents bought the two of them large chocolate ice cream. They went to see a gorilla first, Harry always standing some way apart from them. He _was _a strange boy, Piers thought.

By noon Piers and Dudley were starting to get bored. Looking at animals hadn't been nearly as exciting as he had expected, and Dudley looked tired of walking so much. Why couldn't they have gone to an adventure park like he had gone last year with Jordan?

At lunchtime they went to the zoo restaurant and he and Dudley both ordered the knickerbocker glory. Piers was happily enjoying it, when he saw Dudley looking closely at him.

"Yours has more ice cream than mine has!" said Dudley.

"You serious?" said Piers.

"Yes! That's not fair! The two of us ordered the same thing, it's not fair that you have more ice cream than me!"

"Dudders…" began Mrs Dursley.

"Get me another one and make sure that one has the right amount of ice cream."

"Oh fine," said Mrs Dursley. "Finish his off boy, we're not going to buy you any lunch."

Harry happily obliged.

"So, where do you boys want to go next?" asked Mr Dursley after they had finished eating.

"The reptile house!" said Dudley and Piers at once, huge grins on their faces.

"I wanna see the huge poisonous cobras!" said Dudley.

"Yeah, and those thick, man-crushing pythons!" said Piers.

For some reason, Piers looked over at Harry now. When Dudley's father had said "you boys" he thought he meant all three of them, and he wondered why Harry wasn't giving his opinion.

As soon as they had reached the cool, dark reptile house, all other thoughts had escaped him. The esortment of creepy deadly things behind the the glass cages was too incredible to ignore. He ran along with Dudley to see the Boa Constrictor. He looked in at it, but it was just lying there, sleeping.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the  
glistening brown coils.  
"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the  
glass, but the snake didn't budge.  
"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly  
with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.  
"This is boring," Dudley moaned. They all shuffled away, except for Harry.

Piers and Dudley went and looked at the other lizard and snakes, but they proved to be just as boring as the boa constrictor. Piers turned around to see if the boa had woken up yet, where he saw Harry and the snake staring directly into each others eyes. Harry was saying something, it sounded like he was hissing. The snake rose up in it's cage and shook its head up and down.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU  
WON'T BELIEVE  
WHAT IT'S DOING!" he cried.

Piers ran up to the snake, Dudley waddling over as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," said Dudley, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by  
surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened  
so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Piers and Dudley were  
leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with  
howls of horror.

The glass that seperated the public from the snake habitat was gone. It had completely disappeared. The snake began uncoiling itself rapidly, Piers and Dudley screamed as did several people who running for the exits.

Piers could feel the snake against his legs. Oh god, no, he had heard of this. It was going to wrap around him and squeeze him to death. He struggled quickly to get of the snakes grip, but it was holding on to him too strongly – or perhaps he was simply too scared to move his legs. Finally he found the strength to jump back, the snake was gone and was leaving out the front door.

"But the glass," said one of the keepers who had gotten there while Piers was being attacked, "where did the glass go?"

"Oh, my ickle Dudikins," wailed Mrs Dursley, wrapping her arms around her son as tight as any boa constrictor, "are you all right?"

"It tried to bite me mum! It nearly bit my leg off!"

"How could you let this happen!" shouted Mr Dursley to the reptile house keeper. "How can you let these animals run wild!"

"Sir, sir, I'm sorry…" he babbled. Mrs Dursley was now crying. "Please, hold on, I better get the director."

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea  
while he apologized over and over again. They left right after this, Piers and Dudley were still too shocked at their narrow flight from death, that they could barely talk.

On the car ride home, Piers suddenly remembered something, and said, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you,  
Harry?"

Piers thought he saw Mr Dursley flinch slightly from behind the wheel, and Harry's eyes suddenly widened. Nobody said anything else on the car ride home. When they got back to the Dursley's, Petunia wrapped up a piece of the chocolate cake she had made and gave it to Piers and called his mother to come pick him up.

Piers waited in the doorway until his mother's car came into view. He was very disappointed, there was supposed to be a big party, and now it was all cancelled – all because of the snake.

As he walked up to the car, he thought he could hear Dudley's dad's voice shouting from inside. He couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened today, what Dudley had said, the vanishing glass, and Harry Potter talking to a snake. He was strange, and now all he wanted was to solve this mystery. But that would mean talking to Harry, which wasn't going to happen. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated  
that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and  
nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.


	3. The Letters With No Answer

The Letters With No Answer

_It seems that Harry has earned his longest-ever punishment, _Albus Dumbledore read in his office. _Why, I'm not sure, but my Mr. Tibbles hadn't seen him leave his home except for school in several weeks. Also that Dursley boy knocked me off my crutches on his bike while I was crossing the street, so it appears I will be bed-ridden for even longer now. He was recently been outside some, much more so than usual. The Dursleys brought him over here the other day, and considering the torment I imagine they've been putting him through I decided to give him something of a treat, hope you don't mind. Other than that, nothing to report. _

Dumbledore chuckled a bit, when a knock came at his door.

"Come in," he answered. Professor McGonagall walked, looking quite the same as she had that fateful night almost ten years before. "Good morning Minerva. Chocolate frog?"

"Err – no thank you," she said. "I have prepared the list of new-year students who need their enrollment letters sent. Well, of course, you must know who is due to come this year…"

"Ah, yes. Neville Longbottom."

"Headmaster please! You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Harry Potter."

"I am fully aware that Harry is turning eleven this year and that his name was marked down to come here. You have his address, correct?"

"Yes Headmaster, my quill never fails to mark the proper address of a magical child," said McGonagall. "Which is actually partly why I came. Did you know that those aunt and uncle of his have him sleeping in a cupboard!"

"I…" Dumbledore began. He paused for a moment, reached for his drawer and unwrapped a chocolate frog. "Oh look, I got myself."

McGonagall responded to this with only a glare.

"I know all about Harry Potter's living arrangement," he answered.

"Know? But how…"

"You do not believe I would leave the boy completely unwatched for all these years, did you?"

"Is this about the protection on the house you mentioned to me the day we left the baby with those muggles?"

"Partly," said Dumbledore. "But I do have an informant working in their neighborhood. Arabella Figg."

"The squib? But how could she possibley…"

"Minerva, it does not do to interupt your elders," said Dumbledore. "While Mrs Figg might not have magical powers she is a far more able spy than most wizards I know. One need only to consider the ten years she has lived there, playing the part of a senile muggle, if only to get the most basic idea she can get at what goes on."

"If you know this, how could you have allowed it to happen!" screamed McGonagall.

"It is none of my business how the Dursleys choose to raise their nephew. As tragic as it might sound, it is much better for a boy to grow up in a home without love where he is safe, than in a world where people would constantly be after his life."

"Well, I for one shall be happy," said McGonagall, "when he arrives here at Hogwarts (where he should have been the whole time if you ask me.)"

"Ah, and I suppose you would have acted as the boy's nursemaid then?"

"Are you trying to irritate me today Albus? I have almost forgotten why I came here in the first place. As you know we usually send a member of the staff to the house of muggle-born students to explain our world. Well, what do you suggest we do in Potter's case?"

"I have been pondering this for many months," said Dumbledore, "I believe it's responsible for an unseemly wrinkle on my forehead. No, I don't think we should send a teacher there for now. More likely than not, that would intimidate his aunt and uncle, making them less eager to allow Harry to come. No, I say a nice, plain, well-explained letter will suffice for now."

"But what if they say no!"

"We shall have to cross that particular bridge when we pass it."

Dumbledore did nothing more about the letter for the rest of the day, though his mind never left it. He alone knew the how important it was for this boy to learn magic. If Lord Voldemort were still alive, which he was certain he was, than Harry was the only person who could vanquish him forever.

As he sat in his office, trying to do the work of a headmaster, yet his mind kept wandering. Was it fair for Dumbledore to do this to a young boy, to put all his hopes that Potter could save the world? No, he couldn't do that. Potter was just a boy.

At midday he sat, looking in the pensieve at his few memories of Lily and James Potter, trying to gather as much as he could, though what exactly he wanted even he did not know.

He was shocked when he realized how late it was. Just as he was getting ready to leave, he heard a familiar voice coming from his fire place,

"Albus." McGonagall's head was floating amongst the flames of the fireplace that had not been lit a second ago.

"Why Minerva, you do realize this is the summer holidays. You don't need to be working every day."

"Please Dumbledore, this is urgent. It appears that Harry Potter has changed addresses."

"Excuse me?"

"My list, it's changed this evening. It was the cupboard under the stairs and now it's the smallest bedroom."

Albus' response to this came almost instantly, he had been considering every possible scenario for quite some time.

"Ah yes," he said. "It would appear that the Dursleys have prevented Harry from seeing his letter, and thought that somehow changing his rooms would prevent us from sending more letters. Well, we can't allow them to think so little of us wizards now can we?"

"What do you suggest?"

"Send another letter."

"Another letter! Dumbledore, if they didn't allow him to read the first one…"

"There is no need to escalate things. For now."

McGonagall's face disappeared through the flames, and Albus was left to hum his favorite songs through the empty corridors of Hogwarts before going back to his home.

As he sat down in the living room of the flat he shared with his brother Aberforth during the summer, an idea came to him. It was against the law, of course, but Albus had his ways to make sure the Ministry would never find out.

He took a bag of floo powder from the mantlepiece over his brother's fireplace, and throw it into the flame.

"Number Four, Privet Drive," he said. Nothing happened. He knew it wouldn't of course, the Dursleys were not connected to the floo network. He then took his wand, pointed it at the fire and said some incantations. Suddenly the fire was filled with a picture of the Dursleys' living room. He could see in, but they couldn't see out.

Dumbledore went to bed, knowing the letter would arrive some time the next day. He was very curious to see what would happen.

The next morning, Aberforth had already gone down to the pub (though it was not open this early, he did bring his favorite goat with him.) He turned his armchair towards the fireplace and watched it like a television, waiting for something to happen.

The fireplace saw straight across the living room, through a hall, and just barely visible in the back, the front door.

He waited a few minutes, and into view came a large blond boy, banging things with a stick. From the very descriptive letters he had received from Mrs Figg through the years he supposed this was Dudley Dursley. He bent down and picked up some letters from the floor, the Hogwarts' letter among them. He watched as Dudley waved it through the air and shouted something he couldn't hear.

Next second, big beefy man came running into the hall, followed by a skinny boy with messy black hair. So, this was Harry Potter. Dumbledore's eyes widened, Vernon had grabbed hold of his son, trying to wrestle the letter away from him. Harry grabbed hold of his uncle's neck, apparently trying to get hold of the letter himself.

After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by Dudley's stick, Mr Dursley straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand. The two boys marched away angrily, and Vernon was joined with his horrified looking wife. Crunching the letter in his hand, Vernon walked directly into Dumbledore's view point, and tossed the letter in the fireplace.

Witnessing this display, Dumbledore became much more determined. He apparated on to the doorstep of Professor McGonagall, and told her to send three letters the next day.

Dumbledore did not bother spying into Number Four, Privet Drive the rest of the day. The next morning, after Aberforth had left, Dumbledore went into the same position he had yesterday and waited.

He looked in closely, there was something at the foot of the front door. It looked like someone in asleep, a man. Vernon Dursley.

Some minutes later, Dursley woke with a start. Though Dumbledore could not hear them properly, he saw Harry had stepped on top of him.

Dursley appeared to be yelling at Harry for about a half an hour after this. Dumbledore could plainly see the extent of Dursley's rage, and the way Harry took it. He stood there as if lost in another world, as if he had gotten used to all this and it didn't even phase him. Most ten-year-olds would have been scared witless, he thought.

After this Harry left through a door to the left, and at this time, the mail arrived. The three Hogwarts letters were plainly visible. Dursley waited until Harry came back before tearing them to pieces.

Dumbledore was now transfixed, and decided to wait a bit longer to see what would happen. Dursley disappeared for some time, then reappeared carrying a hammer and nails and nailed up the letter-box. At this point Dumbledore got tired of this and chuckled to himself. It wasn't often that he got angry, but this Dursley was certainly pushing him. Did he think that some nails would stop Albus Dumbledore!

He apparated again to a very harrassed McGonagall, telling her to send out twelve letters and to instruct the owls to be creative as to how to get the letters inside the house. One of these letters would have to reach Harry, and once Harry knew his true identity, he could go there and collect him without problem.

The owls were certainly creative, stuffing the letters under the door, through the through the sides, and some forced through windows. This had proved useless, unfortunately, the Dursleys had discovered all of the letters before Harry had, and they were burned. He also watched as Dursley boarded up the doors. Dumbledore decided it was time he got more creative himself.

Deciding not to further burden his Transfiguration Mistress, he cast a spell putting twenty-four letters rolled up with the eggs that he knew, from talking with Mrs Figg, would be delivered. Whether Harry actually saw the letters anymore did not matter, he wanted to show them that he would never give up until he had Harry.

He was almost positive Harry did not get to see any of those letters, so the next day, a Sunday, Dumbledore went down to The Three Broomsticks. It was closed on Sundays, and since Madam Rosmerta was a friend of his, she allowed him to use her fireplace.

Dumbledore had a plan, one that would require the floo network, but he did not want to disturb the spell he had going on in his fire and the Dursley's living room. He remembered vaguely, when he had last been to Privet Drive, that the Dursleys had two chimneys. This meant they had two fireplaces, most likely in their kitchen, in which they would be eating breakfast at ariynd this time.

After connecting the two fireplaces, Dumbledore shot his wind straight into it. Dozens of letters shot out the end like bullets, into the fireplace where they would fire into the Dursleys. Harry would have to get at least one of these.

He looked on the scene, Vernon had grabbed Harry, who was trying to grab a letter mid-air, by the waist and threw him into the hall, closing the door behind him. Damn, he couldn't see them anymore. He apparated quickly back into his brother's flat, and looked in at them from the living room.

He saw the four of them standing at the front door, Vernon wrenching the boards of the door, all with suitcases. Trying to make a run for it, were they! He had been going at this entirely the wrong way. It was too late to fix his mistake now, how could he know where they were going!

Realizing he would not need it anymore, he got rid of the connection with the Dursleys living room, and summoned up McGonagall.

"Headmaster?" she asked. She had been eating breakfast and was stll in her night things.

"Minerva, the Dursleys have left their house. Please check your list. As soon as Harry finds a new place to sleep the address will change, and I need to know where to!"

McGonagall finally was able to give him a new address that evening.

_Room 17_

_Railview Hotel_

_Cokeworth_

He was stunned at the lengths Dursley was willing to go simply to not allow his nephew to attend a school. Why did it matter so much to him? Oh well, a good solid hundred letters should do, he thought.

The next morning, just as he expected, McGonagall told him that Potter's address had changed once more. It had disappeared actually, and they would have to wait for one to reappear.

That evening, McGonagall finally gave him one, _The Floor, Hut-On-The-Rock, The Sea._

Now that he had a vague idea where to find him, Dumbledore used a map to magically plot his location. There would be no more letters. He marched off in the rain up to the castle grounds until he reached Hagrid's hut.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, soaking wet, after he had answered the door. "I know I said yesterday that I might not need you, but I've changed my mind. If you would, please go down and bring Harry Potter with you to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies. Make sure he comes, don't let the Dursleys stop you."

"Not a problem, sir," said Hagrid happily. "Matter o' fact, I was hopin' you'd ask me, I even baked a birthday cake for the boy just in case."

Dumbledore had forgotten tomorrow would be Potter's eleventh birthday. He was in for an unforgetable present.

"May I ask, though," said Hagrid, "Why me? You usually get McGonagall or one o' the other teachers to do this."

"I cannot lie Hagrid, I was afraid that if someone came to get Harry personally that his uncle would try to physically assault them. You are the only person on staff larger than Vernon Dursley, and you will not need to resort to magic to stop him."

"Good, now where is 'e, still in Surrey?"

"No, I've got a map here. Feel free to take a thestral for the journey, though it's best you didn't use it on the return journey, we don't want to terrify the boy. And if worst should come to worst, please take that umbrella of yours along. I'll cover for you at the Ministry."

He handed Hagrid the letter, identical to all the others that had caused him so much grief this past week, and watched Hagrid fly into the night. He walked back home, came into his living room, and then decided to see whether the hut on the rock had a fireplace.

Evidently it did, but something was preventing a proper fire from burning, so he could only hear what was going on. He heard nothing but the distant sounds of snoring, but suddenly came a large bang. Dumbledore smiled, he knew what was going to happen next. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.


	4. The Boy Wizard

The Boy Wizard

BOOM. Hagrid knocked once more. He'd just had to fly out to this forsaken rock, through a thunderstorm (nearly getting struck by lightning twice), and was soaking wet. They were not going to leave him here outside.

"Go on back to Hogwarts, Twelly," Hagrid told the thestral who had brought him, and it flew away into the dark sky.

"Who's there?" he heard a voice shouting from inside. "I warn you – I'm armed!"

So these muggles were going to play tough with him were they? Hagrid could deal with that. He paused, and with a swing of his fist he knocked the small wooden door straight off its hinges.

Bending his head, he came into the hut. It made his home look like a palace. He saw a man, large for a muggle but still tiny compared to Hagrid, aiming a long muggle-wand at him. A gun he thought it was called. He could see a small woman crouching behind him, terrified. These must have been Harry's aunt and uncle.

On a couch by the wall a boy who looked like a pig in a wig was lying down. He was almost as big as Hagrid had been when he was eleven, and Hagrid was half-giant! Feeling exhausted from his flight, he decided to sit down.

"Budge up, yeh great lump."

The pig lad squeeked and ran to hide behind his mother. Suddenly, he noticed something he hadn't. Right there on the floor, in front of the gawking muggles, there was a blanket, and underneath was James Potter, alive and young again! No, of course it wasn't James, but it looked just like him. Only he was much skinnier than James had ever been. The Dursleys'd been starving him, that was for sure.

"An' here's Harry!" he said, smiling for a change. Harry looked scared, but so did most people when they saw him. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

The muggle, Dursley, made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand you leave a once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering."

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said Hagrid. He reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Dursley's hands, bent it into a knot, and threw it into a corner of the room. Dursley made another funny noise, like a doxy being trodden on. Being threatened with a gun was very annoying.

"Anyway – Harry," said Hagrid, ignoring the muggles. "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat for yeh here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

He reached into his second lowest pocket on the first row on the left side of his overcoat and pulled out the birthday cake he had brought, which was now slightly squashed.He watched as Harry'trembling fingers openned the box to show a sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry _written on it in green icing.

Hagrid hoped this would make Harry less scared, but the same confused look was there, and he blurted out, "Who are you?"

Right! Hagrid knew he had forgotten something. He chuckled to himself.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

Hagrid held out his arm and went to shook his Harry's hand but ended up shaking his whole arm. Handshakes were tricky business. Now that was sorted out he could move on.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

Hagrid looked over to the fireplace, but inside he only some some shrivelled foil. Hagrid snorted, had they tried to start a fire with that! He pulled out his old wandbrella, (what he called the old pieces of his wand Dumbledore had helped hide inside a pink umbrella), from the third highest pocket on the fourth row on the right side of his coat, right next to the pumpkin seeds. He pointed it at the fire and muttered, "Incendio," and to his surprise, he managed to get a roaring fire. It definitely warmed the room up somewhat.

Hagrid sat back down on the sofa and began exploring through his coat pockets some more, he had so many things in his pocket he couldn't hope to remember where everything was. Still, he liked to be prepared. He pulled out a copper kettle. No wait, that was the bones he was going to give to Fang, a squashy package of sausages…wait, maybe it was in the pocket next to that, a poker…Hagrid checked in the next pocket and found only discarded bottle corks, a teapot. Oh wait, several chipped mugs, it was near his breast pocket with the Cauldron Cakes…and a nice bottle which he took a swig from before starting to make tea.

He started sizzling up the sausages, Hagrid was hungry and it looked like Harry was too. The whole time nobody said a thing, but as Hagrid slid them from the poker, the pig lad fidgeted a little. He may have offered him some had it been anyone else.

"Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley," said Dursley sharply.

Hagrid chuckled. What could possibley make that man think Hagrid planned on feeding any of his great muggle family.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' any more, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry, and Hagrid sat back and watched as Harry gobbled them up. Now that everything was sorted out there was no point in going to Diagon Alley right away, best to wait for morning when the storm cleared out, thought Hagrid.

"I'm sorry," said Harry suddenly, "but I still don't really know who you are." Hagrid finished the rest of his cup and wiped his mouth before answering calmly,

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm keeper of keys at Hogwarts – yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er – no," said Harry looking confused.

Hagrid couldn't help openning his mouth in shock. How could he not know what Hogwarts was! Those dirty Dursleys, they'd tried there best to keep Harry from learning magic, hadn't they!

"Sorry," said Harry quicky.

"_Sorry?" _barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who he was happy to see shrink back into the shadows in fear. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learnt it all?"

"All what," asked Harry quietly, still looking confused. Hagrid could feel his giant anger starting to surface…

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He leapt to his feet. The Dursleys hadn't told him anything at all! They hadn't told him anything about magic! The most famous wizard in the world was as ignorant as the common muggle! He shot the Dursleys the toughest look he could manage, looks he'd given Death Eaters in battle. The Dursleys cowered against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy – this boy! – knows nothin' abou' – about ANYTHING?"

Hagrid felt rage pour through him, rage he knew he had to control…

"I know _some _things," said Harry. "I can, you know, do maths and stuff."

He really was ignorant. Only someone raised like a muggle could think maths was an important thing to know! He waved his hands in the frustration he was feeling. "About _our_ world, I mean. _Your _world. _My _world. _Yer parents' world."_

"What world?"

He didn't have a clue. He didn't have a clue!

"DURSLEY!" Hagrid boomed.

Dursley, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble'. Hagrid turned back to Harry, desperately hoping he knew something.

"But yeh must know about yer mum and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. _You're _famous."

"What? My – my mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know…yeh don' know…" Hagrid's mind felt like it had shut down. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think what to do. He just stared at Harry for a while, and then finally said,

"Yeh don' know what yeh _are?_"

"Stop!" Dursley suddenly shouted. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

Hagrid wanted to pick this Dursley by the heel, swing him around the room and rip him apart piece by piece. When Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept _what _from me?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Dursley in panic.

Mrs Dursley gave a gasp of horror. Hagrid could care less what these vermin thought.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry – yer a wizard."

Harry didn't say anything, only stood there as if he'd misheard and waited for Hagrid to correct himself.

"I'm a _what?_" gasped Harry.

"A wizard o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which he could feel falling apart beneath him, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit.With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Hagrid took out the letter (he knew exactly where this was, he'd brought about fifty of them just in case), and gave it to Harry, who finally look a bit happy. He watched as Harry's eyes widened, and Hagrid couldn't help but grin.

After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gargons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping his hand to his forehead, and from his coat pulled out Cyprian, one of the school owl – looking rather ruffled – a quill and a roll of parchment. He scribbled a note, concentrating on spelling correctly:

_Dear Mr Dumbledore,_

_Given Harry his letter. Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather's horrible. Hope you're well._

_Hagrid_

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to Cyprian, went to the door and let the owl loose.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Dursley, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted. Stubborn as a gnome this one was, he thought.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry interested. He really didn't know a thing, did he?

"A muggle," said Hagrid. "It's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Dursley, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard, indeed!"

"You _knew?_" said Harry. "You _knew _I'm a – a wizard?"

"Knew!" said the women suddenly. "'_Knew! _Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that – that _school –_ and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog-spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath. So this was Lily's sister? It seemed impossible that this miserable jealous shrew could be related to the little sweet girl he'd seen grow up at Hogwarts. She went on ranting.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got maried and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – _abnormal _– and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!" Hagrid said nothing. Never had he seen such a perfect match-up of husband and wife.

"Blown up?" said Harry. "You told me they died in a car crash!" Hagrid got roused by these words. How dare they not tell Harry the most noble thing his parents ever did!

"CAR CRASH!" Hagrid roared, jumping up. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

Hagird look down at Harry's young face, his green eyes. How could he answer that question? How could he ever explain it all. He couldn't.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh – but someone's gotta – yeh can't g off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He looked at Dursley, who right now he hated more than anybody for making him have to tell this story.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh – mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…"

He sat down, feeling suddenly tired, and sat down. How would he start? With what caused it all, he guessed. "It begins, I suppose, with – with a person called…" no, he couldn't, "but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows…"

"Who?"

"Well – I don't like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?" This boy sure was full of questions.

"Gulpin' Gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went…bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…"

_Voldemort, _Hagrid thought. But he couldn't help it, it represented everything he hated.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah – can't spell it. All right…" this was for Harry, he reminded himself, this was for Harry, "_Voldemort." _He couldn't help shuddered hearing the name aloud, even if he said it himself. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this – this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em too – some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches…Terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him – an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe placed left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway."

Hagrid went on explaining everything, about his parents, about Voldemort wanting them dead. He could barely remember what he had said. Everything came to him so quickly, like he had wanted to say all this for years. Finally he got to a point where he could not go on anymore, and nlew his nose in his handkerchief.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad – knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find – anyway…"

Hagrid told him everything he knew about what happened next, but he didn't know too much. He watched Harry sadly the whole time, the faces he was making. What he was telling him was upsetting him a whole lot, and with right reason.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…"

"Load of old tosh," said Dursley. Harry jumped. The muggle certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"No, you listen here, boy," he snarled. "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured – and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end…"

Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew his wandbrella. He aimed it square at Dursley's heart and wondered if he was powerful enough to do the cruciatus curse. No, no, he musn't get angry! "I'm warning you, Dursley – I'm warning you – one more word…"

Dursley flattened himself against the wall and fell silent. Hagrid still had it!

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa which this time sagged right down to the floor. Stupid tiny muggle furniture.

"What happened to Vol…" Harry began. Hagrid breathed in heavily. "-Sorry, I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst-ry, see…he was getting' more an' more powerful – why'd he go?"

Hagrid went on, not believing he was saying these things. Nobody talked about it anymore, everyone just wanted to move on. He told Harry stuff he'd thought about but never spoke aloud, how he thought that vile creature, that monster, the reason the Harry had to spent the last ten years with these gits, was probably still alive. And that scared Hagrid much more than it did Harry. And he told Harry how he had stopped all the pain, all the suffering, just a little a baby!

"Hagrid," said Harry quiety, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

Hagrid chuckled. Kids say the darnest things.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared, or angry?"

Hagrid looked at Harry, who turned his eyes away and stared and that fire. He was remembering something, Hagrid thought. Some crazy accidental magic he'd done. Hagrid remembered the time he had made his father's feet glued to the floor.

Harry looked back at him, and for the first time, he was smiling.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard – you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But that Dursley wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish – spell books and wands and…"

Hagrid growled back an answer. He had calmed down a bit talking with Harry but Dursley was starting to get completely ridiculous. He couldn't even remember what he said next, just yelled something about how he would go, and that Dumbledore would be there as Headmaster. Then Dursley crossed a line he shouldn't have. He said the worst thing Hagrid had ever heard.

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Dursley.

Hagrid seized his wandbrella and whirled it over his head. He felt like he was drunk. He felt beyond furious. Beyond furious. There was nobody he loved more than Dumbledore, except his dad maybe. He felt his giant side pushing to get out, he felt the viciousness and violent inclination he had inherited from his mother. "NEVER…" he thundered "- INSULT- ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!"

He thought of aiming it straight at Dursley, and murdering him! No, no! He had to do something! He saw that disgusting fat boy, that little prat son of his, and without thinking he pointed his wandbrella straight at him, not even realizing he was doing a spell, and violet light spurted out. _TURN HIM INTO A PIG! _Hagrid thought. A large blast sounded, but Dudley has transfigured. He clasped his hands over his bottom and squeeled. Hagrid had made him grow a pig's tail! Oh well, it was close enough…

Dursley roared, and Hagrid thought he was going to try and attack him like Dumbledore had warned. But instead, he grabbed his wife and pig and pulled them into the next room, and slammed the door behind the,.

Hagrid looked down at his wandbrella and stroked stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much llike a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry, hoping he was trustworthy.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm – er- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh and get yer letters to yeh an; stuff – one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job…"

Harry had to go ask why he wasn't allowed to do magic. He couldn't go explainin' all that, not now, even if he had wanted to. Who could ever trust a man who got expelled for murderin' a little girl, even if he was innocent and it had just been that Myrtle Michaels.

"It's gettin' late and we've got losts ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid, trying to change the subject. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

They'd have to spend the night, no way was Hagrid risking taking Harry out in this storm. He looked at the collapsed couch and the blanket on the floor, and the locked room to the side. None of these looked good to sleep in, but Hagrid guessed he'd have to take the floor…

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."


	5. Malfoy Manor

Malfoy Manor

It was very late into the morning before Draco Malfoy decided to get out of bed. It was a rare thing for him to be able to sleep in like this, he certainly wouldn't have been able to if it had not been the summer, so he savoured it. He sat up for a while, stretched, yawned loudly, and wondered what he would do today. He paced back and forth in his large gothic styled bedroom as his mind adjusted to being awake. The sunlight shining into the room seemed almost cruel and he quickly drew the shades.

He sighed. It was quite boring here. He hated everything. He hated this stupid room, he hated this house, and, and…he hated those stupid toys! Draco looked over his huge treasory of toys, which he had cared for and cherised for so many years. There were miniature dolls of all his favorite quidditch players which walked and talked, and even flew a bit on their tiny brooms. There were his gobblestones, his Goblin coin bank, a slingshot that hit any mark you wanted, a board game 'Leaping Toad Eyes', his collection of 'Marvin the Mad Muggle' comic books, a fake wand that shot out bursts of water, and of course his complete Quidditch set (broomstick, four balls, and a whistle.)

Draco looked at them with the upmost revoltion. Such things were for little babies, and Draco was practically a man! He was already eleven and was going to be starting school in exactly one month – Draco looked longingly at his calendar – one month and he'd be in the greatest place on Earth, Durmstrang.

Oh, often had Draco's father spoken of Durmstrang, always with praise.

"You study hard boy," he would say many a night as Draco struggled through homework, "I didn't pay for you to have the best private tutors money can buy just for you to embarrass our family name! Durmstrang will shape you up! They'll show you what real wizards are. You're far too spoiled. You have to be strong Draco! One day our noble Lord will return, and when that day comes you must be trained in Dark Arts, so that our kind can finally be free of Mudbloods and slime!"

Draco picked up one of hid favorite player dolls and began dismantling it limb by limb, enjoying the screams of terror the doll made. Dolls, at least, wouldn't tattle on you. He finally decided that he should get some Quidditch pratice in – he wanted to be ready for when school started so he could get on the team. He'd send an owl to Crabbe or Goyle and make a day of it.

He suddenly realized how hungry he was almost half an hour after waking up. After changing out of his pyjamas, he scurried through the long stone corridors of the Malfoy Manor, a house not as old as the family but still quite ancient. He passed the potraits of all the great Malfoys and the various awards and decorations they had gained by all means necessary through the centuries. He went down one spiral staircase, just to go down a hall to the staircase that led to the dining room, wishing that the elf had cooked up some eggs and toast today.

When he got there however, he found it completely empty. His parents _always _had breakfast at this time, he thought, looking at the ten foot grandfather clock.

"DOBBY!" Draco hollored. With a crack, a pitiful looking creature with large round eyes and bat ears stood before Draco, who immediately bowed before the child.

"Young Master Draco, how may Dobby serve you?" he said.

"Dobby, where's breakfast and where are my parents!"

"Well, Young Master…"

"NOW DOBBY!" Draco yelled.

"Yes, Draco's mother, Dobby's Mistress, asked Dobby not to cook breakfast at the same time today, sir."

"WHY!"

"Dobbt doesn't know, sir. Mistress did not tell Dobby."

"Well, you go make me some breakfast! Toast and bacon, now!"

"Yes, Young Master." And with another crack, Dobby was gone.

With Dobby gone, Draco set to to learn just what his parents were doing. He knew they only hid away like this when they were arguing, his mother just could not stand her baby being exposed to such things, even though Draco always found a way to expose himself to it anyway.

He crept away to the secret room where his father kept the things he bought at Knockturn Alley. They weren't there. He then went up to the attic on the fifth floor. They weren't there either. He went out through the back door and searched through the grounds. They weren't anywhere! Draco racked his mind, where could they be? He finally gave up and decided to go get the owl and write to Goyle (he was a much better playing the Crabbe).

As he hurried up the second flight of stairs, he heard angry voices. Draco slapped his forehead. His parents were in their bedroom! He got in very close to the door (thankfully it hadn't been sealed silent) and listened.

"-YOU LISTEN TO ME, HE'S MY SON TOO!" he heard his father roar. His mother was crying audibly.

"But…but, b-b-but…" his mother moaned, "He's so young. And Durmstrang is so far away. He couldn't come home for the holidays you know, and it would so long for our owls to get to him.."

"If you think I'm going to let my son into a school full to the brim with mudbloods, run by the great bloodtraitor, that _Dumbledore_, well…"

"EVERYTHING ALWAYS HAS TO BE YOUR WAY DOESN'T IT!" shouted Mrs Malfoy with newfound courage. "WE BOTH WENT TO HOGWARTS AND TURNED OUT FINE!"

"It was different back then Cissy," said Mr Malfoy. "The Dark Lord was just rising to power. There was a real sense of comradery between the Slytherins. We were united, we had a cause, we knew that the elimination of muggles was necessary. Now, it's all different. He'll go soft there. He needs to be under the arm of a proud wizard like Igor Karkaroff."

"Karkaroff? KARKAROFF!" cried Mrs Malfoy in utter disbelief. "How can you defend a dispicable piece of scum like him! After what he did!"

"BETTER HIM THAN DUMBLEDORE!"

Narcissa went quiet once more, and her loud moaning resumed. "Oh Lucius…please! He's my baby…"

"Breakfast is ready Young Master." Draco jumped in surprise, and only barely contained a yelp.

"Dobby!" Draco hissed.

"Would Young Master want salt and pepper on his eggs, sir?"

"I don't want any ruddy eggs!"

"Oh, but Dobby already…"

"PLEASE DOBBY!"

"Does Young Master want anything else?"

"NO! Please, Dobby, why don't you go…hurl yourself down the stairs until you pass out!"

"But Young Master…"

"Are you defying my orders?" said Draco with a hint of glee in his voice.

"NO! Oh no, good, kind Master…"

"Oh yes you are. And as punishment I say you should…keep hurling yourself down the stairs until you pass out."

"Yes, Young Master," said Dobby retiring.

Draco hurried back to the door, but soon regretted choosing such a loud punishment for Dobby. Between the tumbling and the cries of pain, he could only catch a few scarce words.

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP ALREADY!"

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"DON'T THINK I WON'T!"

"CRUC…"

"EXPELLARIARMUS!"

"I'M SO SORRY MY LOVE!"

Draco swallowed hard. From what he had heard it sounded as though the fight had reached to a physical level. He was too scared to move. And what were they fighting about anyway? It sounded like the same debate that had been going on over the dinner table for months, but Draco never dreamed it would reach to some points. Finally, after wiping his eyes, he heard,

"Alright Narcissa, have it your way."

"Well thank you for finally listening to reason!" Mrs Malfoy spat out. "I am sorry though, about what I just…"

"Forget it Cissy," said Mr Malfoy, exhausted. In sudden horror Draco realized that the doorknob was turning. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, he quickly got up and made as though he just happened to be walking by.

"Draco, my precious baby!" Mrs Malfoy cried and quickly grabbed her son into a very wet hug. Her eyes were quite red.

"Good morning, mother," said Draco, trying to dismiss this overt cuddling but still relish in it at the same time.

"Sweetheart, your father and I have been talking and well, we think it's time you considered having a look at the letter that came for you last week," she said, pulling out a brown envelop from her pocket with the address in green ink.

Mr D. Malfoy Third floor bedroom 

_Malfoy Manor_

_Salisbury Plain_

_Wiltshire _

"I'm not going to look at the letter," said Draco, ever the more rebellious, "as I'm going to _Durmstrang_ and not that filthy school!"

"Draco Malfoy, do not speak to your mother in that tone!" said his father.

"Now, Drakey," said Mrs Malfoy in a gentler tone. Draco shuddered at the horrendous nickname. "Why are you so against Hogwarts. Your father and I went to Hogwarts and it was some of the best years of our lives.

"But it's not fair! Father told me I was going to get to go to Durmstrang! It's not fair!"

"Draco, I must say that…" began Mr Malfoy, "DOBBY COULD YOU PLEASE FIND A MORE QUIET PUNISHMENT WE ARE TRYING TO HAVE A CONVERSATION HERE!"

"Dobby is very sorry Master!"

"Yes yes, now, as I was saying, I believe your mother may have a point. Open the letter, read it at least."

"Oh fine," said Draco and he tore open the envelope. Despite how upset he was, he could not help snickering at the fact the school motto had his name on it. He skimmed through the letter and list of required objects as quickly as he could but the last line caught his eye. "See, first years can't even bring their own broomsticks! How am I supposed to play for England when I grow up if I can't even play Quidditch at school for a whole year!"

"Draco, a wizard of your heritage should aim higher than Quidditch player," said Mr Malfoy.

"Fine, whatever, but you said so yourself, they don't teach dark arts at Hogwarts! How am I supposed to help the Dark Lord like you always tell me father!"

"You're eleven years old, you have absolutely no need to be thinking of such things yet!" cried Mrs Malfoy. "Think of all the disadvantages of Durmstrang. It's oh so cold up there in the north. And they don't speak English! Do you want to be burdened learning Bulgarian while having to train in magic at the same time."

"I don't want to talk about this!" Draco shouted.

"All your friends will be going to Hogwarts, think of it. Vincent, Gregory, Theodore…"

"Nott isn't my friend!"

"Son, admit I too had my own doubts about which school was right for you." Mr Malfoy said, shooting an odd glance at his wife. "Yet, the more I think of it the more I think that Hogwarts is the proper school for you. Certainly it has fallen into dismal hands, Dumbledore is the worst thing to ever happen to Hogwarts. The number of pure bloods keeps dropping every year, they have the most ridiculous staff. The only good one among them is Severus and I don't know how he can stand it. That McGonagall, and Flitwick, not to mention that giant oaf groundskeeper Hagrid. A drunk, you know."

"Oh yeah, I know about Hagrid!" said Draco lighting up. "Adrian told me all about him!"

"Yes, yes. Hogwarts needs to have more of our kind, the ancient families," said Mr Malfoy, as though all of this were just dawning on him. "Running away from the problem won't solve it. You need to uphold the traditions of Hogwarts, and work to change the school – from the inside. Yes. After all, Salazar Slytherin was one of the founders. And you will be a Slytherin, I'm sure of it. All the Malfoys have been Slytherins for centuries."

Draco felt something open inside his mind, going to Hogwarts was not punishment, it was an honorable duty. He was going to be a great Slytherin. He was going to take down the other houses. To hell with Ravenclaw, and stupid Hufflepuffs, and those damn Gryffindors. They had not met the match of Draco Malfoy. And his father would be proud of him.

"I'll do it!" said Draco at once. "I'll go to Hogwarts!"

"Oh, then we have to hurry!" said Mrs Malfoy.

"Hurry for what?" asked her husband.

"Oh, but his school supplies, we have to get them! If we wait to the last minute the prices are all going to skyrocket. Oh, I'm not busy today are you dear? Good, we'll go straight after breakfast."

"Excellent!" said Malfoy. "But can I still have a broom, even if it says not to? You know I was reading in _Which Broomstick _that they've got this really cool new model out called the Nimbus 2000…"

And that was all it took to convince Draco to go to Hogwarts. After Dobby got around to frying up a second batch of toast and bacon (his feet were still quite cold from sticking them in the ice box for a half hour), they were off.

They chose to go by Floo Powder, and ended up in the Leaky Cauldron. The Malfoys left quickly, not wanting to socialize with anyone who actually enjoyed being in the Leaky Cauldron.

They made their way down the bustling street, passed witches and wizards going about their daily business. Draco seemed very bored with all this and kept trying to talk with his parents. "Oh, after we get my school things can we go down to Knockturn Alley? I'd love to go back to Burgin and Burkes. Ooh, look, look! In that window, that the Nimbus 2000! Can't we go back there later, mum? I just want to see it, I swear. C'mon, let's just get all this shopping stuff over with already!"

As much as Draco said he wanted to get everything over with quickly, he still managed to delay his parents at every turn. He complained that he thought the bottom of his cauldron was too thin, moaned loudly that he just _needed _the most expensive set of scales, and argued that if his parents would buy him the working model of the solar system he wouldn't even need a telescope. He spent no less than half an hour in the Apothecary, examing all the fascinating ingrediants they had and telling the shopkeeper that a store in Knockturn Alley had much better stuff than this.

"Hurry along Draco," said his mother as they left 'Fino's Finest Phials.' Draco was looking across the street at a large collection of kneazles in a window.

"Yes, I was hoping that as long as we're here I could attend to some business I have at Gringrotts," said Mr Malfoy.

"Now, Drakey, run along to Madam Malkin's by yourself for a bit," said Mrs Malfoy. "Your father can get all your books and I can get started at Ollivander's, I already know all your wand measurements. This will save us all plenty of time."

"And then we can go see the Nimbus…"

"We'll see," said Mrs Malfoy, handing her son a small pouch of galleons.

Draco went to entered the shop and was greeted by Madam Malkin.

"Come on in, dear," she said. "You're here for your Hogwart's uniform, I suppose. Well just step on here, my assistant will fit you." Draco looked at the younger woman who had just dropped a box of pins of the ground and was scurrying to pick them up. This did not bode well for him.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing," said Draco as he stepped on to the footstool, not concerned if he sounded rude.

"Oh yes, quite sure," said the woman, not sounding sure at all. "I know exactly what I'm – ow! Just pricked myself." The rest of the fitting did not get much better. She seemed to take much longer than was necessary. She kept putting pins in the wrong place, pricking herself, apologizing prefusely when she pricked him. She had to do several measurements over again because she could not remember the numbers. Draco had very specific instructions on the quality he wanted his robes him, and the woman would only vaguely nod and fail to do as Draco asked, resulting in having to start from the beginning.

Draco was starting to get very bored. So bored that he was excited when another boy came in to be fitted, even though he dressed like a muggle and looked poor.

"Hullo," said Draco when the other boy would not start talking. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," was all the boy answered.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said Draco. The boy did not seem to be interested. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Draco knew that would impress him.

"Have _you _got your own broom?" Draco went on.

"No," said the boy.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," said the boy. This was by far the most dull person Draco had ever met. Despite that, he felt the need to show him he was far superior to him.

"_I _do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house," Draco lied with no shame, "and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said the boy. He sounded more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said the boy, but Draco no longer cared what this skinny boy was saying. Outside the window was standing a gigantic man, twice the size of a normal person. He looked wild and dangerous, like an animal let out of its cage. It was qutie scary.

"I say, look at that man!" said Draco, trying to hide his fear. The beast was grinning like a simpleton and was madly pointing two ice-creams at the poor skinny boy.

"That's Hagrid," the boy said, sounding very pleased with himself. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, somewhat relieved. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," the boy answered sharply. Draco did not like his tone.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage_ – lives in the hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant." Draco was fed up of acting polite. If possible he always tried to make friends with people, in case they had something to offer. But this boy was utterly boring, stupid, obviously poor, and maybe a mudblood. He was not even strong like Crabbe and Goyle.

"_Do _you?" Draco answered. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," was all the boy answered.

"Oh, sorry," said Draco, trying to get past this unimportant stuff as fast as possible. "But they were _our _kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?

But before the boy could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and he hopped down from the footstool without another word. He was rude on top of being stupid.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Draco called as the boy hurried out the door and to the Hadrig or whatever his name was. "And you woman, aren't you finished yet!"

"Er-uh, yes, let me see. Yes, all finished. Here are your robes, I hope they'll be to your liking."

"Well they certainly took long enough." Draco banged a few galleons hard onto the counter and left. His father was waiting there with a large pile of books.

"Were you just speaking with a muggle-born?" asked his father sternly.

"He said he was pureblood, but I don't know if I believe him."

The rest of their walk to Ollivander's was silent. As they walked into the tiny shop, Draco heard a man's vocie speaking softly.

"Yes, of course Mrs Malfoy, I assure you I make only the finest wands and do not let my customer leave without a perfect match. Your son Draco will be well served, ah, speak of the devil." The old man's wide eyes stood fix on Draco's father.

After only a couple of tries, Draco was in possession of his first real wand (Dragon heartstring, oak, ten inches, 'rather sturdy', according to Ollivander.) He knew now that he was really a man. If it were not for his father being there, he would have ran out into the street and tried doing magic right then.

With the shopping through, Mr Malfoy went to attend to his business at Gringrotts (which seemed to mostly involve his shouting at some Goblins) while Draco sat impatiently in against a wall with his mother. While they were leaving, they passed a young man going in who seemed to know Mr Malfoy.

"H-h-hello there," he said, his mouth twitching to the left. "This m-m-must be your family. So nice t-t-to see you ag-again."

"And nice to see you to," said Mr Malfoy, though his voice was very dry. "Draco, this is, er _Professor _Quirrel. He teaches at Hogwarts, _Defense Against The Dark Arts_." He looked as though he might spit in disgust.

"Q-q-quite a d-day, isn't it," he answered, is eyes never staying still. "Harry P-P-Potter coming back, im-ma-ma-magine!"

"What?" cried Mr Malfoy.

"Oh, y-yes. I s-s-saw him, at the Leaky C-Cauldron."

Draco eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He scanned all the people passing by the street, expecting to see someone with a huge lightning bolt stamped in the middle of their face.

"W-w-well, I n-n-need to go now," said Quirrel, who went into Gringrotts covered in sweat.

"_Who _was that?" asked Mrs Malfoy, as though it were shocking just to have been near such an absurd man.

"Ugh, just another example of the trash Hogwarts has teaching. I met him at one of the governor meetings last year. Didn't always seem so nervous though."

"But did you hear him! Harry Potter! He's here somewhere!" said Draco. His parents said nothing. Of course, he always heard that Potter was the same age as him, but he had never thought that would mean they could go to school together. _The _Harry Potter, the most famous person in the world could be right around him. Sure, he may have been the cause of the Dark Lord's fall, but all that showed was just how powerful he was. Draco knew that he and Harry Potter would become the best of friends.

They were walking back to the Leaky Cauldron to go home, when Draco realized he'd forgotten something. He saw it, the Nimbus 2000, in one of the display windows, and ran over to it.

"Oh, please, please, pleeease!"

"Draco, we've already spent a fortune here today, and you have a perfectly good broom at home!" his father yelled.

But Draco took no heed, he pressed his nose against the glass to get a better look at it, but his father grabbed him by the collar, and he was gone.


End file.
